


take my hand (guide me home)

by mynameis_not_cathofaragon



Series: home at last (you and i) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Deserves to be Happy (Supernatural), Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Dancing in the Rain, Dean Winchester Calls Castiel "Angel", Dean Winchester Deserves to be Happy, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing in the Rain, Love Confessions, M/M, Michael is Mentioned, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, So are some other characters - Freeform, The Author Regrets Nothing, a lot of crying, and they are, but the happy kind, emphasis on comfort though, i guess, it's my fix it and i chose the tropes ok?, t for language, we ignore 15x19 and 15x20 in this household
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27731035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameis_not_cathofaragon/pseuds/mynameis_not_cathofaragon
Summary: "Cas is gone, he had confessed his love to Dean, and now he is gone, and Dean had done nothing to stop it from happening, nothing. He'd stood there, staring at the crying angel in front of him, he’d watched as the Empty took him.Cas had told him he was loving, and caring, but right now Dean can’t bring himself to care about anything. Cas is gone, what is there to care about anymore?He stays there, with his head in his hands, sobbing, crying. In the back of his mind, he knows he has to get up, find Sam and Jack, save the world, but he can’t muster the energy to do it. The tears slowly subside, and he feels exhausted, but he has a job to do.With newly found determination, he slowly, shakily, stands up. First, they would kill God; then, he’d bring Cas back home."....or; Dean and Cas finally get the happiness they deserve.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: home at last (you and i) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124942
Comments: 13
Kudos: 137





	take my hand (guide me home)

**Author's Note:**

> i began writing this after i watched the disaster that was 15x20, but real life got in the way (sucks, i know) so i just finished it now. anyways, here's my fix-it, enjoy

He is gone. 

_I love you._

Cas is gone, he had confessed his love to Dean, and now he is gone, and Dean had done nothing to stop it from happening, nothing. He'd stood there, staring at the crying angel in front of him, he’d watched as the Empty took him. 

Cas had told him he was loving, and caring, but right now Dean can’t bring himself to care about anything. Cas is gone, what is there to care about anymore? 

_I love you._

He can vaguely hear his phone ringing, but the ringing in his ears is louder, and he can feel the floor cold under him, but the burning sensation on his shoulder in stronger. 

He stays there, with his head in his hands, sobbing, crying. In the back of his mind, he knows he has to get up, find Sam and Jack, save the world, but he can’t muster the energy to do it. The tears slowly subside, and he feels exhausted, but he has a job to do. 

With newly found determination, he slowly, shakily, stands up. First, they would kill God; then, he’d bring Cas back home. 

* * *

Sam and Jack don’t ask questions when Dean simply tells them Cas is gone; Jack figures out what had happened, and Sam understands that his brother wouldn’t open up easily. They do have work to do, after all, questions would come later. 

When they find Michael, coming up with a plan isn’t that hard. The Archangel had grown fond of Adam, that much is clear, and he is mad at his Father, disenchanted at his Great Plan, or lack there-of. 

So they go to the clearing, “prepare the spell”, Chuck shows up. Michael is all but livid at how easily his Father trusted him, how little credit he’d given him; he is done being God’s mightiest weapon, not when it was all a game for Him. His death is a sacrifice that no one could have predicted back when the first apocalypse happened. 

“You lose.” 

Taking care of Chuck is anticlimactic, almost disappointingly easy, but it also seems fitting, in Dean’s opinion: Chuck was no longer important, he wasn’t even a character in his own story, he didn’t deserve a bigger, more dramatic ending. 

With God no longer being God, and everyone –almost everyone- back on Earth, their job is done, yet Dean still has one more thing to do. 

* * *

Dean doesn’t break down when Jack hugs them, tells them he has some work to do as the new God, and promises that he’d come to visit soon, before disappearing. 

He doesn’t break down during the ride back to the bunker, as Sam keeps bouncing his leg and staring at his phone in between all the calls from Jody (“she is with Donna and the girls, yes, they are all fine”), Garth, Bobby, Charlie, Adam. He almost does when he hears Kevin and Charlie’s, _their_ Charlie, voices through the speakers, but _not yet._

He doesn’t break down when he sees all the people in Lebanon, going through their days as if nothing had happened. 

He even manages not to break down when they go inside the bunker and find Eileen there, smiling with tears in her eyes as she and Sam melt in a hug. He stands there, smiling slightly until they disentangle from one another, giving her a hug of his own, before leaving them to themselves. 

He heads to his room, briefly considering taking a detour to the kitchen to grab a beer, but ultimately deciding against it. His smile, albeit small, was real, he is happy for his brother and Eileen, he is, but the moment he closes the door behind him, the smile falls from his lips, and he falls to his knees. 

Tears flood his eyes in seconds, falling silently at first. The weight on his shoulders has lifted, but it found its way onto his chest now. He can’t breathe, sobbing, shuddering, muttering things he can’t understand himself. 

At some point he raises his head. There is a prayer to Jack in his lips, a plea, but he can't bring himself to say it, not yet. 

Instead, he whispers, “Cas...” 

Could angels hear prayers in the Empty? He doesn’t know, nor care. 

“Cas, please, come back. I- I never got to say it, you didn’t give me a chance, man,” he chokes out. “It was too quick, with Billie, and- and... Please, you told me I was good, I wanna prove to you that you were right, but I can’t if you’re not here. Cas-” his voice breaks. “Come back home, angel.” 

He stays there, waiting for something. Wishful thinking, he knows. _I always come when you call_ , Cas had said to him once, but where is he now? 

Dean doesn’t know how much time had passed, but he hesitates before calling for Jack. The kid most likely would help him, Cas is his father, after all, but what if he doesn’t? What if he doesn’t hold power over the Empty? Or worse, what if he doesn’t want to? Maybe Cas has finally found peace, away from the mess that are the Winchesters. 

He is, after all, surrounded by one of the largest collections of knowledge of the occult, surely there must be something on the Empty... but looking would take him days, weeks, and he could not find anything, and if there is even the smallest possibility that Cas is in pain, suffering... Dean would never forgive himself for not trying. 

“Hey, kid,” he finally mutters. “You’re probably busy being God and all of that, and you did say you’d be hands off, but please-” he can’t help the crack in his voice.” Bring him back, Jack, he of all of us deserves to live, _please.”_

He keeps his head tilted upwards, tears silently streaming down his cheeks, waiting for a flash of light, noise, divine wrath, something, _anything,_ but nothing comes. Logically, he knows that Jack was probably taking care of the mess Chuck has left behind, but logic can't help heartache. 

Research it’d be, then. 

He stands after what could have been an eternity, his joints very much complaining –not that he pays them any mind. It is nearing dinner time, and he doubts either Sam or Eileen would want to go out to celebrate now. 

He sees them both sitting closely, wide smiles on their faces, most likely holding hands under the table. It stings a bit, he’s merely human after all, but the happiness he feels for his brother, and Eileen, overrules the heartbreak, and he feels a smile of his own forming slowly. 

“Hey, lovebirds,” he calls, managing to keep his voice even, if slightly hoarse (he also makes a mental note to look up some ASL course online when Eileen turns her head only after Sam has). “I’m gonna go make dinner, no funny business ‘til after we eat.” 

Dinner is a pleasant affair that night, all things considered. Dean has missed Eileen, and he can see how happy she makes Sam, and vice versa. They go to bed early, but Dean stays behind, and begins his research. 

He sleeps little that night, and the ones after that. 

Sam notices, of course he does, so Dean does everything he can not to be left with him alone; he isn’t yet ready for questions. 

It works until late on the fifth night, when Sam ambushes him in the kitchen. 

“Dean, what’s going on?” 

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, Sammy?” He tries to dodge the question, but finds himself facing Sam’s Bitch Face #8. 

He sighs, taking a seat in the kitchen table, nursing the cup of coffee he’s just made for himself, trying to gather his thoughts. Sam doesn’t rush him, knowing it would do nothing. 

Finally, he says, “I can’t leave him, Sammy.” 

His brother exhales. “Dean-” 

“No,” he interrupts, not unkindly, willing his voice not to break. He looks up at Sam, “He loved- loves me, he said it, he told me he loved me and I-” he feels tears prickling at his eyes, and has to stop to blink them away. “I didn’t get to say it back, he _has_ to know, Sammy, he has to.” 

Dean dreads seeing pity in Sam’s eyes, but when he looks at him, he only finds sympathy, yes, but also determination. 

“We’ll get him back, we always do,” he declares, and Dean believes him, he has to. “But first, get rid of that coffee and go get some fucking sleep.” 

* * *

Dean, Sam and Eileen spend the next couple of days relentlessly looking through every book that might remotely have anything to do with the Empty. It's fruitless, they find nothing. 

Dean is desperate, praying to Jack –and Cas- every night. 

They also haven’t told anyone. Jody has said she’d go visit with Donna and the girls soon, and even if Claire feigned indifference, he knows Cas and her have grown close. He hopes he won’t have to tell her. 

He's trying to translate a passage in Latin from a book, Eileen looking up something in her laptop next to him, Sam with his own stack of books he’s going through. The bunker is silent, only the sound of pages being passed, typing, and the occasional muttering or writing disturbing the quiet. 

Deans stops for a minute to roll his head, maybe stretch his back a bit, feelings his muscles tensed after being hunched in the same position for Lord knows how long. However, he freezes a soon as he lifts his head. 

“Jack,” he breathes, distantly noticing Sam and Eileen turn their heads as well. 

There, just some feet away, is Jack, looking just like the last time they saw him, his hand lifted in a wave, a sheepish smile on his face. 

“Hi.” 

Sam, of course, goes to hug him. Dean stays frozen on the spot. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” he apologizes as soon as Sam releases him. “I had to take care of some things.” 

“It’s fine,” Sam assures him. “You’re here now.” 

Jack shakes his head, turning to face Dean. “I’m sorry,” he repeats,” I should have called you, guys, let you know what I was doing.” 

Dean finally finds his voice. “Which is?” 

“Fixing heaven,” he smiles. He lowers his eyes, fidgeting with his hands in a way that’s just so _human_. “I went to the Empty; we made an arrangement.” 

Dean feels his breath catch in his throat. 

“I put It to sleep, for good,” Jack says, finally looking up,” in exchange of some angels, and a few demons.” 

“Cas-” Dean can’t bring himself to finish the question. 

Lucky for him, Jack understands. “He is safe. I brought him, with Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Anna, Balthazar and some others, to Heaven with me; we’re rebuilding it.” 

There's no way to stop the tears from spilling, but Dean can’t bring himself to give a shit about showing vulnerability for once. 

“I meant to come earlier,” the kid continues,” but time passes differently in Heaven, I’m not completely used to it yet.” He pauses for a second, looking affronted, before adding, “He’ll be here, there’s some things that need to be done upstairs, but he will come back.” 

Jack stays for a while, telling them about the changes he and the angels have been making, Heaven won’t be just memories anymore, it’ll be what Paradise was supposed to be all along. The angels won’t be just warriors anymore, either, and he’s planning on making some more. Michael, Gabe, Raphael and Amara –who was not inside him anymore- would help him rule Heaven, in a sort of democracy to ensure no more Chuck situations; both Michael and Gabriel have expressed their desire to come back to Earth, though. 

Dean's happy that things are looking up, he is, but in all honesty, he can’t concentrate in the conversation for much (and doesn’t that say something about him, not being able to focus on whatever God is saying), but all his mind is filled with is _Cas._ Cas, who is alive and well and would be coming home soon. 

* * *

Two more days go with no Cas. He hasn’t been sleeping well, but unlike before, the reason’s not desperation as much as it is anticipation. Sam and Eileen have been teasing him, albeit lightly, but he pays them no attention. 

_Cas. Cas is coming home._

His brother has taken Eileen on a date day (because of course those dorks have date days instead of date nights –not that he blames them, considering the time lost) in a town over. Dean's kinda bored, and restless, and he hasn’t been outside the bunker in days, too preoccupied with finding a way to bring Cas back; now, though, with the knowledge that _Cas is well, and he’s coming home,_ he decides to go get some vitamin D or whatever bullshit Sam has been nagging him about. 

Of course, when he steps out, he finds the sky covered with clouds, and not the white, fluffy ones, but the grey kind that most definitely mean it’ll rain sometime soon. Still, he decides some fresh air won’t do him any bad, so he goes to sit under a tree, non-research book in hand, intending to spend a nice, quiet afternoon. 

That plan doesn’t really get to happen, though. 

Not three chapters into his book, the silence around him is disturbed by a noise, a wings noise. Not letting himself hope –maybe it was Michael, or Gabe, or Balthazar-, he lowers his book before getting up slowly, only turning to the source of the sound once he’d found his balance. 

Not that it does him much good, really, because as soon as he sees him there, Dean’s knees weaken, his step faltering. 

“Cas.” It sounds almost like a prayer. 

There, in front of him, in the flesh, is Cas, with his messy, bedhead hair, his bluer-that-the-sky eyes, his somehow always impeccable suit, and his stupid, ill-fitting, trench coat. He's there, real and barely a few feet away, and Dean can’t help himself, he really can’t, it is stronger than him, that magnetism that has always seemed to pull them to one another. 

Cas is there, and Dean’s hugging him, and Cas is hugging him back, and there are tears falling furiously from his eyes, but he doesn’t give a crap, all he cares about is the angel he’s holding tightly in his arms. 

He pulls away after what could have easily been an eternity. 

“Dean-” 

“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” He doesn’t really intend to say that, but the words come out on their own, and the tears haven’t stopped, so he hopes Cas understands what he means. 

“Dean,” Castiel’s own voice is small, raspy. “It was the only way, I’m sorry.” 

“What you said- before...” 

Cas doesn’t meet his eyes. “I apologise, if I made uncomfortable, I never intended-” 

“Cas, look at me.” When he does not, Dean lifts his chin gently, looking at him intently in the eyes, attempting to convey through them what he can’t with words. Still, seeing the frightened, yet hopeful, look in the angel’s gaze, he tries,” You self-sacrificing bastard; you always put others before yourself, Cas, including me. You’re my best friend, Cas, you’ve seen me at my best and my worst, and you still stayed, even after I hurt you, and will all the shit you’ve had to put up being with us, you stayed. I was scared, and pushed you away, called you brother, but you’re much more than that, have been for a long time, and when you finally say it, I don’t even get the chance to fucking say it back, man. 

“You say I changed you, but you changed me as well, Cas, I wouldn’t be the same without you, you were right the first time we met, I had no faith, but you made me believe, in you, in myself. When God wasn’t around, you were there, fuck, when everything else was a stupid story orchestrated by Chuck, you were real. You've always been real. I’m not good with words, so let me just say this one thing, angel: I love you.” 

Cas was crying now, too, in a mirror of that day, merely two weeks but what seems like a lifetime ago, except this time his smile is wide and cheerful. Dean can’t help it, he brings his angel closer with the hand that stills holds his chin, their lips meeting in a long overdue kiss. 

It is rushed, and desperate, trying to make up for all the years lost, there’s way too much teeth, the force with which they kiss is bruising, their hands are everywhere, they are gasping for breath. Dean’s had much better kisses technique wise, but none of those hold nothing against this one, this kiss is just perfect. 

Finally, they pull away, their foreheads resting against each other, and it is just then that he notices that not only the spot where he’d been crying over Cas’ shoulder is wet, but so is the rest of them. He looks up, a raindrop falling on the tip of his nose, and he laughs. 

He's laughing, loudly, annoyingly so, but just so delighted, and soon Cas follows him, until they are both a mess, laughing, crying, soaked through, holding each other close. Cas was right, there was happiness just in being, but here, with him, Dean knows there also is happiness in having, and now that he has Cas, he’s never letting him go. 

They'll probably catch a cold if they stay out there, under the rain, but Cas is right there, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the wide smile he’s sporting, and Dean’s overcome with the urge to kiss him again. The best part is, he actually can now. 

And so he surges forward, pulling him even closer by the waist, Cas sighing contently as their lips meet again. This time, they kiss slowly, gently, savouring the moment, pouring all of their love in it. Cas’ lips are soft, more than he would have thought, maybe it’s an angel thing. 

When they part, again not pulling away more than a few inches, the words come out on their own (not that he regrets them afterwards), “I love you so much.” 

Cas looks positively delighted, beaming at him. “I love you, too, Dean, more than I ever thought I could.” 

It's like a dam opens. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s been harbouring these feelings for years, not allowing himself to feel first, and then hope, or perhaps it’s that he’d never even considered having the chance of a normal, apple pie life with the way he’s lived his whole life, or it could just be simply Cas, but either way, Dean finds himself unable to stop proclaiming his love. 

It is a whisper at first, a plea almost, then his voice gradually becomes steadier, louder, until he is all but screaming at the top of his lungs. He peppers kisses all over Cas’ face, receiving wide smiles and gleeful laughs in return, as well as love declarations of his own. 

The rain around them keeps falling, and god, isn’t it the most chick-flick moment he’s ever experienced. But it’s _Cas_ , he’s home at last, and they are together, and nothing else matters, not really, so Dean lets himself enjoy the cliché he’s living, basking in the warmth radiating from the angel in his arms and the sheer happiness he finally allows himself to feel. 

He has an idea, then, a stupid, nonsensical, completely out of character idea. 

“Dance with me?” 

Cas tilts his head, in such a Cas motion that Dean heart melts. “There’s no music,” he points out, even if he’s smiling. 

Dean shakes his head. “We don’t need it.” 

“Alright, then.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes.” 

None of them know how to dance properly, having never done it before; an angel and a hunter, graceful at battle, stumbling over their feet with a simple dance. But they’ve fought together, they know their movements, and soon enough they find a rhythm. 

They barely move at first, too concentrated on trying not to fall, but they find their footing, and then they are twirling around the field, not really dancing, but they don’t care, and Dean is spinning Cas, and then Cas is dipping him. 

That turns out to be the wrong thing to do, though, because one of them, he isn’t sure who, stumbles on the wet ground, and next thing they know, they are laying on the grass. Dean's body complains at this, he’s not twenty-five after all, and with some effort he gets up, bringing Cas along with him. 

“We should get inside,” Cas says, amused, grabbing his hand as Dean nods, laughing. 

They go back to the bunker –the book he’d brought with him all but forgotten-, hand in hand, and it just feels so _right_. 

After a shower and a change of clothes, they make some hot chocolate to warm themselves up, the thought of grabbing a couple of beers not even crossing Dean’s mind, and go to the Dean Cave. 

They put on some movie, one that Cas choses, most likely at random. Dean's seen it before, and Cas doesn’t really care about it, so they just cuddle, yes, cuddle, on the couch, the movie little more than a background noise. 

Dean must have dozed off at some point, because he is awakened by Sam’s voice, laced with concern, calling for him. He blinks the sleep away, smiling softly when he notices Cas carding a hand through his hair. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

“Dean-!” 

Sam comes through the door then, an alarmed look in his eyes. He freezes at the scene in front of him, before smiling widely. “Cas! You’re back!” 

Cas chuckles, just as Eileen gets there as well, the soaked book in her hand. She smiles knowingly, exchanges her own greetings with Cas, and then promptly proceeds to get Sam out of the room. Dean really likes her. 

Once they are alone again, a thought occurs to Dean which makes his heart clench. A year ago, hell, a month ago, he would have ignored it, but it’s time he starts working on his communication issues, and no time like the present. 

“Will you stay?” 

“Of course.” Cas doesn’t even stop petting his hair to say it, there’s no hesitation, no place for doubt, he says it like it is a universal truth, like there isn’t, and never was, any other option. It is only after a moment that he stiffens, and slowly adds, “If you want me to.” 

Dean turns his head so he’s facing him, and lifts a hand to cup his face gently. “I want everything you wanna give me, angel. And I’ll give you everything, too.” 

Cas smiles at him, kissing the inside of his wrist. “Then you shall have everything I have to give.” 

They have dinner with Eileen and Sam that night, the couple teasing them at every chance, but Dean doesn’t really notice, too focused on Cas to pay attention to anything else. 

That night, when they are in bed, Dean’s arm secure around his angel’s waist, Cas’ arm over his chest, he says, “Let’s retire.” 

He doesn’t really think before he says it, but in all honesty, he's been thinking about it for a while, a nagging desire in the back of his head that he’d never allow himself to consider. But now the world seems to be at relative peace, Chuck’s gone, Jack’s taking care of Heaven, and Earth, with a capable group of powerful entities by his side, Sam and Eileen will probably retire themselves, and Cas is home. Why wait? 

Cas simply smiles at him, softly, fondly. “Alright,” he says. 

* * *

Retiring is weirdly easy. 

They consider staying in Lebanon, but ultimately decide against it; they don’t really have a reason to stay in the bunker anymore, and without major threats to the world to distract them, Dean can’t bear to stay in Kansas. Instead, the bunker becomes a sort of headquarters for hunters around the country, a place where they can go if they ever need to. 

Jody suggests they move to Sioux Falls, but the ruins of Bobby’s house are also too much to bear. Instead, they get a place in a town just twenty minutes away from Sioux Falls, Sam and Eileen moving not so far away. It's weird, having lived with Sam almost his whole life, but they are only a short drive away. 

Their house is on the outskirts of town, far enough to have some privacy, but close enough that there are some other houses near them. The place is a real fixer-upper, it was rumoured to be haunted and no one has lived there since the late nineties (they check, it’s not actually haunted, but the legend makes for a good price). 

Dean finds comfort in putting his hands to good use, it feels good to create something instead of destroying, and he enjoys teaching Cas how to do some things; others, they learn together. Dean gets a job as a mechanic, something he likes and knows how to do, but it’s temporary, a means to save some money, and hopefully open his own bar soon; Cas briefly considered something to do with teaching History, since he knows more than most professors, but in the end opted out of it, seeing as human interaction still isn’t his forte, instead getting a job at the local library. 

The house is perfect. They have three spare bedrooms, two for anyone who comes to visit (Claire is a recurrent guest, often accompanied by Kaia), and one transformed into a studio that Cas uses to paint, a hobby he’s taken up; the kitchen is spacious, perfect for Dean to experiment with his cooking; the living room and dining room are big enough to accommodate all their friends (most gatherings are spent there, after all), and part of the backyard has been transformed into a garden by Cas, the rest of it being used by Miracle. 

To their non-hunter friends (because they actually have those now!), it looks like any other perfectly normal house, if just a bit eclectic at times. To them, the sigils carved on the door frames and hidden in the paintings are just meaningless symbols, the old books in dead languages just a decorative choice, and the unusual herbs and copious amounts of salt that they always have in hand just because Dean likes to cook. 

Of course, the books they keep on plain sight are harmless, mainly there for the sense of familiarity –and for the aesthetic, not that they’d admit that. Most of the stuff they brought with them is kept in the attic and basement, some spell books (Sam took most of them, though), lore, most of the weapons that were in the Impala and some from the bunker, all labelled and archived in boxes. A few things are still in the Impala, a pair of machetes and guns, bullets, salt, knives, and some are hidden around the house, Dean’s gun and Cas’ angel blade safely put away in the drawers of their bedside tables, close to reach if necessary, but out of sight. John's journal is in the house, too; Dean considered burning it at one point, or giving it to Sam, but his brother had refused, and at the end, it ended up in one of the many boxes. 

The locals think they are a bit weird, they are aware; not that they blame them, really. Dean sometimes remembers his time with Lisa and Ben, he’d felt out of place then, but it isn’t like that now. Before, he was always on high alert, waiting for the monster around the corner, still mourning Sam, constantly feeling like something was missing, too used to the action-packed hunter life, waiting for the moment people would find out who he really was. Now, he’s happy, content to leave the action behind, knowing the world is in good hands, that his friends, his family, are safe, all but embracing the quirky, married couple image that their neighbours conjured. 

In Lebanon, they were the mysterious, secretive Campbell brothers and their strange assortment of friends, cordial enough, but that nobody actually knew, who disappeared weeks at a time just to be seen in their sleek, black car the next day as if nothing had happened. Here, though, they were Cas and Dean, the unusual but kind couple at the end of the street, who often hosted a wide variety of guests, from the short, mean looking, British man in a black suit, to the lively redhead with fandom merch, or the tough looking blonde in the leather jacket. 

They also have habits now, healthy habits. Dean’s alcohol consumption has lowered significantly, and Cas insisted they eat healthier; hunting had required them to stay somewhat fit, but now that they’ve stopped, they had to find some other way of exercise. The gym was crossed out quickly, but Dean found he didn’t hate running along the river close to the house, and they walk Miracle daily, too. 

Another new thing is the dates. Dean had never dated before, never having the opportunity with the life he led, and the two times he’d tried, it didn’t end well; it was all hook-ups for him. Now, though, they have weekly date nights, sometimes they stay in, others they go into town, and some other sporadic dates, such as picnics or going to watch a movie. None of them are much for PDA, rarely more than holding hands or a quick peck when they are outside, but they rejoice in those small touches, finally allowing themselves they happiness they’ve deserved for so long. It is disgustingly domestic and romcom-y, as Sam, Claire and everyone else is constantly reminding them, and Dean loves every second of it. 

Naturally, the best part is Cas. The prolonged looks and feather-light touches they used to share are still there, but they are also followed by kisses, and cuddles, and _I love_ _you_ ’s. Cas’ stoic demeanour remains when he is around strangers or outsiders, but the weight on his shoulders has lifted, and when it’s only them, or their family, he smiles and laughs. Dean spends every waking moment trying to make Cas smile, if there is any being on Earth who deserves to be happy, it’s his angel.

Of course, they have bad days. Days where the nightmares wake them up in the middle of the night, screaming as a cold sweat covers them. Days where sudden noises trigger their flight-or-fight response. Days where they reach for their weapons. Days where everything seems like too much and they can’t get out of bed. Days where they feel the urge to call their friends to make sure they are alright. Days where they don’t talk and their eyes can’t focus. Days where someone mentions something and a memory comes flashing back.

Their new friends don’t understand, of course not, they probably think they are veterans of some sort, with the way they carry themselves at times, but they respect their boundaries, giving them space and not pushing. Cas and Dean are thankful for this, they’ll never tell them the truth, they can’t do it, and they can’t really go to therapy either, at least not until they meet a hunter therapist, but they have each other, and their family, and it’s fine.

But even with their bad days, the good ones outweigh them. Their life may not be the most normal nor perfect, but for them it feels like it is. For the first time since he was four years old, Dean feels good; he has a big, weird, wonderful family, a house that’s actually his, a dog, a stable job, projects for the future, and Cas, whom he loves, and who loves him back, and what else could he possibly want, with his family a call away and his angel by his side?

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: when i was writing the kiss scene, it actually started raining.  
> also, yes, i brought og charlie back, why? i just love her, and this is my self-indulgent fix-it, so, and i couldn't decide if i wanted human cas, or angel cas, so it's kinda up for interpretation  
> edit: this is now part of a series! which will be just follow ups in this ""universe"", and i forgot to mention it when i first posted this, but jack basically erased from everyone's minds the fact that sam and dean were wanted for several crimes (deux ex machina, i know, shh)


End file.
